


Surfacing

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Secrets, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Following a playful day at the beach which almost ends in tragedy, Fingon and Erestor reflect on their past vices and self-image.





	Surfacing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to AnnEllspethRaven for beta reading and naming this work (because my working title of 'Fingon Can't Swim' kinda sucked.)

Moonlight streamed through the window. Midsummer breeze caused the curtain to flutter. Erestor had a book in his hands, but it was doubtful he had been reading it. He looked with deep concern at the occupant of the bed beside which he was sitting, for Fingon had stirred and blinked a few times before focusing on Erestor. “How are you doing?” Erestor asked.

Fingon closed his eyes and licked his lips. “How are you doing?” he asked.

The concern was still there, but Erestor had a faint smile upon his lips. “Do you even know how you got here?”

“Dragged under water.”

“Good guess. You remember what happened after that?” asked Erestor.

The curtains billowed inward before the windows seemed to suck them back again. An invitation was extended to them from Elrond to visit the house in Alqualondë at the same time Orophin and Valarda would be there. It had been a few years since Erestor and Fingon had seen the others on the mainland, and the holiday was a welcome one which would lead them to visit Fingon’s family the next month before they returned to the Cottage of Lost Play to decide how to proceed with the inn they had adopted. 

For a moment, Fingon appeared he would remain silent, until he said, “I think I hit my head.”

Erestor leaned in closer and kissed the bump just visible above Fingon’s right temple. “It was more than your head, my dear. After you did not resurface, an immense wave came upon us all. You were flung against the rocks like a ragdoll. It was lucky Celeborn was right there and was able to dive in and find you right away. I was surprised you did not break your back, but Elrond assured me that was not the case.”

Fingon rubbed at his eyes. “Just my head? Nothing important?”

“You will have a lot of bumps and cuts and bruises, but Elrond seems to think you are going to be fine. He managed to wake you for a little while, and once he was satisfied that rest was better, he gave you a sedative.”

“Oh? How did that go?” asked Fingon, who was generally a firm believer in holistic health and had unconventional names for many of the concoctions in Elrond’s personal apothecary.

“Pretty well, actually. You just woke up, remember?”

Fingon narrowed his eyes as bits of the hazy conversation came into focus. “You tricked me.”

“I did not--”

“Elrond tricked me,” he corrected. “Something about drinking a toast to something.”

“It was pretty clever, and you were mostly unresponsive as it was,” Erestor said.

“It was actually pretty good,” Fingon further recalled. “A bit fruity, with a slight minty aftertaste.”

Erestor set the book aside and ran a hand through his hair. “Why did you not tell me you cannot swim?”

With a sigh, Fingon looked away. “I thought it was shallow. And you said it was just water volleyball. Who ends up with a concussion and partially drowning from water volleyball?”

“Orophin roughouses all the time. It could be chess, and someone could sustain a broken limb, or cards and someone ends up needing stitches,” explained Erestor. 

“In that case, remind me never to suggest fencing when he is around,” Fingon replied.

There was a bit of light in the hallway, and Celebrían peeked into the room for a moment, smiled, and left. Erestor shook his head and pulled the covers aside to examine a particularly nasty gash Fingon had along his arm, from wrist to elbow. It was wrapped, and seemed to have stopped seeping for now. “I should have warned you. That was my fault. He also wanted to apologize once you were awake. He feels terrible right now.”

“Oh, no… tell him not to,” insisted Fingon. “You have no idea what I got into back in my youthful days. You should go and let him know it is not his fault. I may have been able to just stand back up had that wave not swept me back around.”

“I have told him not to worry. Several times.”

Fingon began to push the rest of the blankets away. “I will tell him then.”

“I will summon him - you will stay put,” directed Erestor.

“I feel fine.” Fingon made a second attempt to leave the bed.

Erestor moved much faster, and tucked Fingon back in. “Not until Elrond says so.”

“I feel fine,” repeated Fingon, but he settled back as Erestor left the room to retrieve Orophin.

Erestor was back with Orophin trailing after him not two minutes later. “As I said earlier, Orophin, this is not your fault,” said Erestor. “Accidents happen, and everyone was having a good time.”

“I know, but sometimes, I do get carried away,” admitted Orophin as he came around the bed and sat down where Erestor had been. “Fingon, I am really sorry about what happened today. I am so used to everyone else, and I guess I just found myself really comfortable around you, even though I was totally prepared to not like you very much because of how much I did like Glorfindel, and I probably should not have said that. My wife is still training me to think before I act or say stupid things, and I need to do that more, probably starting a thousand years ago.”

Fingon blinked twice at Orophin.

With a cringe, Orophin began another apology. “Right, that was a dumb thing to say. Elrond keeps telling all of us ‘do not speak Glorfindel’s name in this house’, and fuck me, but I just did it again. And that was another inappropriate thing. Maybe I should just write a letter… then I can edit it and write out all of the parts I keep saying that I should not say.”

Again, Fingon blinked at Orophin, but this time he looked up at Erestor. “Who… who is this?”

Erestor started to open his mouth, but then lifted one brow and looked down his nose as Fingon.

Orophin did not catch the expression. “Uh… it… it is just me… you know, Orophin, the idiot.”

Fingon appeared most confused. “I am… unfamiliar with that name. And… who is Elrond?”

“Who is... oh shit.” Orophin’s eyes widened. “I expect people to forget me, but Elrond? You cannot remember Elrond?” Orophin winced as Fingon shook his head and touched a hand to the bump and made a slight noise of distress. “Oh crap. Erestor. We should get Elrond. The concussion is worse than Elrond said it was! No, wait -- you stay here, because right now, he still remembers you, and if you leave he might forget that. I can get Elrond… dammit! I hope this is not permanent,” he said as he started for the door.

Erestor blocked him. “I have a pretty good feeling he is going to make a full recovery.”

“How can you be so certain?” fretted Orophin, and Erestor motioned for Orophin to turn around. He saw Fingon, sitting up ever so slightly, with a very smug expression. “Did you just --” Orophin narrowed his eyes. “You just tricked me.” He nodded and gave Fingon a look of approval. “Well played.”

“While I do appreciate the apology, it is unnecessary,” said Fingon. “I have engaged in my share of stupidity, and done things that caused harm to others in the name of fun and good times. However,” added Fingon, “if you still feel guilty and need a way to clear your conscience, I have a perfect solution.”

“If it includes a canoe, a camel, and three pounds of chocolate, I am in. The canoe is actually optional,” he added.

“The canoe is unnecessary,” answered Fingon without tripped over Orophin’s odd commentary. “In fact, it would defeat the purpose. Clearly, I am a land-and-air dweller who neglected any amount of residency in Ulmo’s realm. I would greatly appreciate a few simple skills such as treading water and not flailing quite so much.”

“If I teach you to swim,” warned Orophin, “I am going to make up a bunch of different strokes and paddles and things or at least give them ridiculous names, to the point you will never quite know what if anything matches up to anything other people do.”

Fingon laughed, and only regretted it a little when he felt everything hurt. “I would expect nothing less, and you will have ample time to concoct some truly impressive aquatic maneuvers whilst I recover. I have no intention of being a competitive swimmer, so if I am the only person in Valinor who knows how to do the ‘wild warg paddle’ or the ‘Eregion quarter-turn side-stroke’, I think I can cope so long as it helps to keep me from drowning.”

“It happens to be the Eregion three-quarter turn side-stroke, but we can work on that,” assured Orophin with a very serious expression. 

“Just not today,” said Fingon as he closed his eyes and flexed the fingers of one hand and then the other to test the extent of his injuries.

Orophin nodded and stood up again. “I am sorry. You truly are fun to be around, so I will try in the future not to break you,” he added before he left, and he was rewarded with another one of Fingon’s rare laughs.

Now that the chair was empty again, Erestor sat down once more and adjusted the covers around Fingon. “Can I get anything for you?”

“How ironic would it be to ask for some water?”

“Very,” confirmed Erestor, and he fetched a glass of it immediately. While he helped Fingon to sit up so that he could drink, he said, “I never really experienced this side of it.”

“This side of what?” asked Fingon after a few sips. 

Erestor took a deep breath and said, “With Glorfindel, yes, he was injured in Gondolin, but that was a strange time and our relationship was different. When he died, it was sudden -- there was no lingering. And then there are the things that happened to me, and all of the uncertainty, from the arrow wound to the overdoses, and even things that happened in Imladris, when I was thrown from horses or bitten by a snake or whatever else happened. Countless times, Glorfindel sat where I am and probably wondered, is this it? Is this the end?”

“Oh, cupcake, come here. I never meant to worry you like that. I am pretty darn sturdy, despite appearances,” Fingon assured him as he managed to coax Erestor to join him on the bed. “Things are going to happen, and it is very nice to know that if they happen to me, I will wake up to find you sitting right there,” he said as he pointed to the chair.

“I cannot help but feel this was a… a warning of some sort,” Erestor said. “To put me through what I put other people through.”

Fingon reached over to hold Erestor’s hand with the one that felt less sore. “As I said, there are a lot of things we cannot prevent. Did you fling yourself into the path of that arrow that hit you years ago?”

Erestor snorted. “No.”

“Did you ask the snake to bite you?”

“Eh, that one is slightly more complicated…”

“Alright, what about the horses? Did you make a pact with them to throw you midway through a race?”

“Certainly not,” answered Erestor. “However, there are some preventable things.” They were both silent until Erestor specified, “The alcohol, drinking in excess, and the… the drugs.”

“Mmmhmm.” Until now, Fingon had not asked, but he knew, and Erestor had not offered information on his current substance use, opting to return to using most things in secret. “I have a suggestion, and you can say no, and I will not bring it up again. What if we put that box on the counter where the hard liquor is, and when you want to use it, you just go ahead so long as I am there. We spend most of our time together now, so it is not as if you would need to drag me into the room from some other place. I am not going to judge your need for it, so long as you keep it within reasonable limits, and even then I will be there more to keep you from using too much versus telling you no outright.”

Erestor stared up at the ceiling. 

“If you find the answer up there, let me know,” Fingon finally said. “Just think about it,” he added when Erestor looked at him. “You do not need to decide now.”

“Alright.”

Fingon nodded. “And if you decide not to, I am not going to shame you about it or--”

“I meant, alright, I will put the box out in the open. I will stop sneaking around to use it.” Erestor came a little closer. “I do want to stop drinking so much alcohol, too.”

Fingon managed to get a hand behind Erestor’ head and pulled him closer for a kiss. “I like kissing you.” He kissed him again. “I like kissing you more when you have not been drinking.”

“I like kissing you more when I am not drunk because I remember it better,” muttered Erestor.

“That sounds like a good plan.” Fingon turned on his side to curl up against Erestor. “I do not want us to have contracts and conditions and oaths and all of that bullshit. I just want to look back and see that we took care of one another. I want to look forward to forever with you.”

Erestor pulled Fingon closer and to embrace and cuddle him. “I need to stop drinking.”

“You can make that choice and I will support it. I will support it the other way around, too, I just think we would both be better off if we were not engaging in activities that cause more harm than good in the long run. I have my vices, too,” he said. “I go thrill-seeking knowing I will wind up in dangerous situations.”

This revelation was followed by several minutes of snuggling, during which Erestor’s left hand moved under the blanket until it came to rest at Fingon’s hip. “You have always answered me honestly.”

Fingon pressed his lips together and nodded. He seemed to know the question, but waited for it to be asked.

Slowly, Erestor pulled the shirt back so that he could move his hand beneath the fabric. HIs palm grazed over the lithe form of his lover, from hip to ribs, where the skin always appeared to be pulled tight like a drum. “Is this for some religious purpose?”

“That was not how I thought you were going to approach the subject.”

“Alright. How about, I think you are starving yourself. Except I do watch you eat, so I have not been able to figure it out. When Elrond was tending to you, he thought maybe you were infected with worms, but I do not think that is the case, either. I have no idea if this is religious or something else.” Erestor held Fingon closer, for he was avoiding eye contact now. He kissed his neck to try to comfort him, and added, “I think it is something else, and it worries me because I love you.”

 

“It is not religious, nor am I afflicted with worms,” said Fingon. 

“Good. Because that makes it less difficult to discuss,” Erestor said. “I used to fast back when I was invested in my faith. A week was the longest, but a day was more typical. I lost weight now and then, but I never looked like this -- except once in captivity, which is not what I want to discuss right now. I want to talk about you. We do that so rarely, and I think we need to.”

Fingon returned to his back and stretched his arms over his head. “When I was at one of the gyms early on, I had a coach who used to use a measuring tape. All measurements were tracked. The claim is that it was for uniforms, but no one measures and takes notes for uniforms every day. There were these charts and notes, and some of us had the feeling they were used to decide what to feed us -- we were fed individually in our rooms, I suppose so we did not know and did not share food with someone else. Anyhow, I was asked to get something from the office one day, and when I went in there I saw a folder open on the desk. My chart was there. All of my measurements, and a note from a month before. The words ‘too fat’ were scrawled at the bottom. I started by trying to eat less, but it was noticed and the staff kept a closer eye on me and would sit with me in my room while I ate. One of the other boys noticed, too, and he taught me a little trick. I started with lunch. I would eat and then wait a few minutes before I went to the outhouse. It stank, so it was easy, and no one noticed vomit with what was in there. I felt I was not losing weight fast enough, so I switched to breakfast and dinner. Within a year I was taking all of the trophies for floor exercises, and not long after that I won my first of three all-around medals. I was the best there was at one point.”

“What do you do now?” Erestor held his breath.

Fingon no longer hesitated to share details. “At some point I realized I can eat an entire plate full of raw celery and carrots and I actually lose weight. Cucumbers, lettuce, grapefruit, watermelon -- I experimented. I kept detailed journals on my weight and what I was eating and how my body reacted. I tried eating once a day or eating ten times a day, and I found six was ideal. Six little meals, mostly vegetables, sometimes fish. I cut all other meat from my diet. No eggs, very little milk or cheese, and as much water as I want.”

“And still, you are very active. You dance, run, tumble, do acrobatics… I think you have reached a point where you are surviving on sheer will.” Erestor ran his fingers along Fingon’s ribcage. “You are not fat, and you will probably never be fat.”

“My mother used to try to get me to eat all the time. She would constantly make my favorite things, and it pissed off Aredhel all the time. She thought I was doing it to get attention.” 

“I am not going to try to force you to eat,” said Erestor. “I just want you to know that I love you, and if you are doing this for me for some reason, you do not need to. I love you, and I think you are beautiful. If you are doing this for yourself, then I cannot say I completely understand it, but I am not going to shame you for it. And if you are doing this for some asshole coach from your childhood, I hope you will reflect on the fact that he probably does not even remember it.”

“She.”

“Sorry?”

“The coach was a lady. The one who took all the measurements.”

“I am not sure why that upsets me more, but it does.” Erestor shook his head. “Maybe because I feel women should be more nurturing and should certainly not be telling youths that they are fat, even in a hidden note note intended to be seen.” Erestor stroked Fingon’s hair and said, “When I was little, I was a bit on the… chubby side. I had those puffy cheeks that aunts like to pinch, and I was not as dextrous with my fingers, which my mother somewhat affectionately referred to as ‘baby sausages’, which now that I think of it, that is a horrible thing to call fingers of a child who is a little on the thick side,” Erestor said, and his laughter made Fingon smile a little. “Morbid. Anyhow, I started playing with other children and I learned how to fish so I would run around doing that on days I was amusing myself, and I learned how to box, and after a while I was doing enough things and had a growth spurt, and I was just like most of the other children.”

“I was never like most other children,” said Fingon.

Erestor cleared his throat. “You know, I actually wondered if you were eating what you do eat in an attempt to boost your… uh, virility.”

“What?” Fingon moved back slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You know. Nuts and oysters and avocados and watermelon. Some of it is supposed to make a person more amorous, and some allegedly makes a man… you know, bigger down there.”

“What? No. Are you bullshitting me?” Fingon poked a finger at Erestor’s nose. “If this is some--”

“Hey. Calm down. Sweetie. I am not going to make some shit up like that. I can find books for you that have lists. I do not claim they actually work like that -- I just…” Erestor sighed as Fingon moved closer again. “I just thought maybe you thought you had to… do something more in our relationship, and you were eating things to… try to make that happen.”

“No. I was unaware of all of this.” Fingon groaned. “Oh, shit, that is what the fishmonger meant the other day.”

“What did she say?” The finicky eating habits of the cottage inhabitants meant they were regular customers of just a few vendors. The fishmonger was one of them, a talkative young lady with twin toddlers who would play behind her stall while she peddled her husband’s early morning catches, and conversations were had with her twice a week or more.

Fingon’s eyes were distant, and several different memories were clearly converging as he processed the information Erestor gave him. “I bought oysters the last time I went to the market. She remarked I buy them at least once a week. She was insistent that I take the largest ones, and then she said I must really like them, and I told her I did. And then she said, ‘And Erestor must like them, too’, and winked at me. And I gave my little speech on how you do not eat animals, and she smirked and said, ‘I know’, and I was thinking, then why say you like them, but now I get it. Ugh. I am an idiot.”

“No, not an idiot. I thought you knew; I thought you were trying to do it for me in some way, and I was going to say something, but… I also was not sure, and then there is your weight… I was worried I would say the wrong thing,” admitted Erestor.

Fingon rubbed his chin. “So the fishmonger thinks I was going to her for marital aids.”

Erestor smiled, and even blushed a little.

“What? Oh…” Fingon smiled back. “We should really make that official soon,” he said as he took hold of Erestor’s hand and kissed the finger which had been adorned with a golden band for many years.

“We really should,” agreed Erestor.

Fingon kissed Erestor once again before he settled on his back and closed his eyes. “I do not suppose you happen to know what the opposite of whatever food I was eating would be.”

“Cheese and grains, and I think chocolate is one of those that can go either way. I think licorice was another one. I know there are books with lists that I can show you,” Erestor reiterated. 

“She probably forgot my name by now.”

“Who? The fishmonger?”

Fingon shook his head. “The coach I had.”

“Oh. Her. Possibly. Even so, she was someone doing a job -- a terrible job, mind you,” warned Erestor. “She was not a friend or family member. She was not really interested in your health and well-being. She was only concerned with winning.”

“That was really all I was concerned with at the time,” Fingon said. “And I did win. A lot.”

“Do you feel like you are winning now?” asked Erestor. “Because I will tell you, at this point in my life, there are a lot of things that make me feel like a loser. But I wake up and I see you, and things are good. Things are really good for me. And it might be selfish of me, but I want to wake up and find you there every morning.”

“I have never had a lover who actually needed me,” said Fingon. “And I need you.” He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “There is no way I can promise great changes, but I am going to try to be a better man for you, and for myself.”

Erestor snuggled closer and touched Fingon’s cheek until he turned his head. “I will try to do the same. I think a lot of our troubles could be eased by simply talking about them.”

“Most of what I talked about tonight were things I had not shared with anyone before,” said Fingon. “I feel so at ease telling you things.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about tonight?”

Fingon nuzzled Erestor and then pulled the covers up. It was still dark outside, and the scent of rain was on the air that drifted into the room. “We might have time for one more secret before I doze off again.”

“Oh?”

“Once upon a time,” spoke Fingon close to Erestor’s ear, “I met a lovely man with thoughtful eyes and an open heart, and I fell in love with him in a hallway over an empty bottle of wine.” Erestor kissed at Fingon’s neck before Fingon continued. “And I thought I had no chance at reciprocation, so I left, but I came back, and then slowly things changed, and then something that seemed fated became reality, and now I look into those dark, thoughtful eyes every morning, and I never want that to change. He happens to be really cute, too, and he is a really good kisser.”

Erestor chuckled a little. “He sounds lucky to have someone as sweet as you enamored with him. I bet he fell in love with you sooner than you think he did.”

“I think I have time for one more secret,” said Fingon.

“Yes?”

“Sometimes people who do not know us well refer to you as my husband, and I never correct them.” Fingon’s voice was a little shaky as he made this revelation.

Erestor’s was more sure as he replied, “Then you should know that there have been a few times when I have told someone who does not know us well that you are my husband, and no one has corrected me.”

“I promise I am going to make that true some day.”

Erestor held onto Fingon as tightly as he dared, minding his injuries. “In my mind, it already is true. I am not in need of ceremonies or rings or anything else everyone else expects. All that matters is what matters to you and I, and you matter more to me than anyone else.”

“You might not, and I might not, but I have parents who cater weddings on a regular basis. I am not going to disappoint my mother, who has had in her mind for centuries the image of a giant multi-tiered cake with blue and gold flowers and sparkling crystal centerpieces that she saved from Turgon’s wedding. Also, I have this grandmother, perhaps you have heard of her, goes by the name of Indis, and she--”

“Oh, shit. I for--” Erestor’s would-be sentence degenerated into a growl, which made Fingon laugh harder than he had all night (and wince immediately after). “Right. So. We should get right on planning that.”

“So Grandmother, she is a little olden-day about things, and she is going to insist on a year engagement first. Which means we need to find someone who can make rings -- luckily, I have all sorts of cousins and half-cousins and second-half-cousins-eight-times-removed that we can call upon, though I will want to make sure they do not do something weird when making them.” Fingon held his side as he laughed a little. “My family is so weird. Are you sure you want to be party to this madness?”

“Well, my family just tried to drown you earlier, and then tricked you into drinking who knows what to get you to pass out, so…” Erestor smiled and nuzzled Fingon. “Might as well. We can have contests on who has the crazier relatives.”

“Oh, please. I already won, and that is before I even get to Uncle Feanor,” declared Fingon. “Your relatives are sweet and kind and well-meaning and fun. Mine are competitive and vain and self-centered and fucking nuts.” Fingon paused and went through his assessment. “Which, I suppose applies to me as well.”

“I would never call you self-centered,” argued Erestor gently.

Fingon sleepily snuggled closer. “You were supposed to say I am not crazy, either.”

“Eh… I was in the audience the day you did that flip-dive thing off of that bluff, and now that I know you could not swim then… I am having some difficulty not agreeing with the fucking nuts part. Solo rescues, fighting two balrogs at once--”

“To be fair,” interrupted Fingon, “I started by fighting one, and the other just invited himself to our party. Very rude.” He yawned. “I need to sleep.”

“We both do,” said Erestor. He pulled the blankets closer and closed his eyes. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“Was it impressive?”

“Hmm? Was what impressive?”

“When I jumped off of that bluff and did all of the flips and things mid-air.”

“I could never do anything like that. It was pretty impressive. I am more impressed now that you did not drown,” admitted Erestor, one eye opened.

“There was a net. Under the water. Obviously, that was not revealed, but that kept me from going down to the bottom, and the same for the others in that showcase. Those were crazy events. Did you ever see the ones where I did tricks on the back of an Eagle while it was in flight?”

Erestor shook his head. “That sounds pretty impressive, too.”

“It was actually terrible. The eagles were so high up, no one could actually see anything going on.” Another yawn escaped, and Fingon pulled his part of the blanket up to his ears. “I promise to sleep this time,” he said. 

“I will be most impressed if you manage to fall asleep without another memory or anecdote,” answered Erestor. “Actually, I know how to keep you quiet until you fall asleep,” he realized.

“How do you pro--”

A dozen kisses later, Fingon sleepily pulled back. “Mmmright, sleep now,” he mumbled. “Goodnight, cupcake.”

Erestor nuzzled Fingon once more. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”


End file.
